Stealers' Sky

Of course, the prince could have simply ordered him into service. In that case, Hakiem would have had the choice of leaving Sanctuary as an honored ambassador, or leaving it as a fugitive of the prince's wrath. It would seem, however, that Kadakithis had learned the value of a willing volunteer ... however unwilling that volunteer might be in reality.

Absently, Hakiem noted the contradictory, circular nature of that observation as a gauge of the effects the wine was having on him, and was not displeased at his progress.

"May I join you, old man? ... Or are you too busy with the 'preparations' for your voyage to spare me a few of the miTlions of words you spend so freely on others?"

Hakiem gaped with astonishment, uncharacteristically at a loss for words. None seemed required, however, as his visitor pulled up a chair and settled at the table like some huge black bird coming to roost.

"Jubal?" the storyteller managed at last, blurting out the question as if requiring confirmation for what his eyes already told him. "Are you ... I mean, is this wise?"

He tore his gaze free to glance nervously about the tavern's dim interior, but no one seemed to be taking notice of the figure in their midst.

"I've found that I've been out of view long enough that no one remembers what I look like." Sanctuary's crime lord smiled without humor. "Especially with the 'changes' I've undergone since I was a 'public figure.* If anything, a disguise would draw attention to me rather than avert it ... especially in the Vulgar Unicorn. Like this, I'm just another old man ... like yourself."

While it appeared Jubal was correct in his analysis, Hakiem nonetheless felt distinctly uncomfortable ... enough so to banish any effects of his earlier drinking. As long as they had known each other ... actually, as long as Hakiem had been in Sanctuary ... Jubal had maintained an air of secrecy about himself. Originally, he would not have left his mansion without a cloak and one of the blue hawk masks to disguise his features, and after the aging caused by the spell hired to help him heal from the wounds suffered during the Stepsons' raid on his holdings, he had not appeared in public at all. Ergo, sitting next to an ex-slaver in the Vulgar Unicorn, bereft of any effort to mask his identity, had Hakiem feeling that he was in close proximity to a target on one of the military's firing ranges.

"What are you doing here?"

"I've heard about your new assignment," Jubal said, his dark lips tightening into a flat smile. "Good news travels slower than bad in this town, but it still travels."

"I already gathered that from your first comments. What I want to know is why it drew you into the open. Forgive me if I find it hard to believe that you're here solely to wish me safe voyage, but in the past the only times you've sought me out is when it somehow benefited you or your operations. Of what import is my appointment to you?"

The crime lord gave a short bark of laughter and shook his head.

"Your time in court has certainly sharpened your tongue, old man, but then I guess neither of us has ever had much tolerance for small talk when it came to business. Very well, I'll come straight to the point."

He shot a quick glance around the room, then leaned forward, lowering his voice-

"I have a proposition for you. Simply put, I want to accompany you on your new assignment."

"That's absurd!"

The words slipped out before Hakiem had a chance to consider them. He did, however, have time to consider Jubal's sudden scowl at their impact.

"What's absurd about it?" the ex-slaver demanded harshly. "Is my company so repellent to you, or my advice so worthless that ..."

"No!" the storyteller interrupted hastily. "I meant you already have everything here in Sanctuary ... money, power ... what possible reason could you have for even considering giving it all up to travel to a foreign land, one where you are unknown and would have to start building again from nothing? rAof's what I meant was absurd . . - the whole idea's preposterous."

He gave a bitter snort, reaching for his tankard.

"It's preposterous for anybody to willingly give up their life ... to gamble everything on the unknown. IfIhad a choice ... but I don't. I have to go ... for the prince, for the Beysa, for Sanctuary, What's the comfort of one old storyteller compared to that?"

"It depends on how highly you value what you're leaving," Jubal said easily, ignoring Hakiem's self-pitying comments. "It's strange that you should think I have everything here, but then you've always taken for granted the one thing that's always eluded me."

"And that is ... ?" Hakiem urged, curious in spite of himself.

"Respect." The crime lord shrugged. "I thought I had it when I won my freedom from the gladiator arena, only to find polite society viewed me as little better than an animal. I couldn't find work that would earn me the kind of money necessary for the kind of life-style I aspired to, so I took to stealing it."

"And earned a certain type of respect in the process." The storyteller smiled.

Jubal frowned at him. "Don't patronize me, Hakiem," he said. "It ill becomes you. I have never been respected in this town. Feared, to be sure, but we both know that's different than being respected. You can't buy respect, or force it at sword point. You have to earn it."

"So why not earn it here?" Hakiem frowned.

"Do you think I haven't tried?" The ex-slaver grimaced. "The trouble here is that too many people know me of old, and that knowledge makes them assume the worst. I'll tell you, just as an example, I've been trying for months to get an audience with your prince."

"Kadakithis? What business could you have with him?"

Jubal shot a glance around, then leaned closer, lowering his voice.

"I was going to offer him the services of my intelligence network. It's worked well enough for my criminal activities in the past, and I thought he might appreciate its value as an aid for governing this town."

"And he refused?" Hakiem frowned. "That doesn't sound like the prince."

"I never got to see him," the crime lord said. "It seems the consensus among those who control the prince's schedule is that the only way I will see him is if he presides at my trial, I tried more roundabout methods, applying leverage to a certain ... 'friend' of the prince's who is unknown to most, but even there I was thwarted. Everyone believes it's better to buy me off than to go along with whatever I suggest or request. It's become clear to me that my organization will be more effective and be more acceptable if I disassociate myself from it- That's why I'm interested in accompanying you."

It occurred to the storyteller that, by employing dubious methods in his efforts to gain respectability, Jubal was proving everything his enemies believed about him. He also realized, however, that the ex-slaver had a quick temper, and that it would be wisest not to argue with him. Prematurely aged or not, the ex-gladiator was a force to be reckoned with when it came to disputes of a violent nature.

"Do you expect it will be any easier to find respect in the Beysib Empire, surrounded by a people who are physically different than us?" he asked, tactfully shifting the focus of the conversation.

"Who knows?" Jubal shrugged. "It can't be any worse than here. At least there I won't be carrying my past around my neck like a leper's bell. It will be a fresh start for me in a land where no one knows or cares anything about what I've been or done before."

"Of course, that also means they have no idea of what to guard against either," Hakiem observed drily.

The slaver flashed a quick grin in response.

"A land of opportunity, no matter how you look at it."

"Not if those opportunities cause problems for the ambassador," the storyteller warned. "I can't have a ... Excuse me, what capacity were you proposing you accompany me in, anyway?"